Do not blame me, ladies, if I’ve been moved,
If I have felt a thousand fiery flames,
A thousand wincings, and a thousand pangs,
If I’ve been worn out weeping for my love.
Oh, no! Don’t whisper insults at my name.
If I have erred, my sentence is at hand.
And don’t let fly your barbs. But understand
That love does appear in its own sweet time.
Don’t say it is the god of fire who lights
The match. And don’t be finding fault with fair
Adonis, for your plunge into the bright
And lovely passion. Please take care.
And have a bit more sense than I have had.
Then try, dear ladies, not to be so sad.
© 2000 Alice Park